That Time
by Domicile
Summary: “You know, Carly, I think everyone has it wrong. Everyone says I’m a force to be reckoned with, but I think you’re the one that is. How could you control me so easily if it wasn’t you?” Cam oneshot


The first note Carly ever sent to me scared the hell out of me. Even though she had let me eat lunch with her after I tried to steal hers, I was sure she would reject me someday. Everyone does. Its not like I don't want friends, or didn't, but I couldn't change who I am. Still can't. It wasn't like she needed me as a friend. Carly was the quiet intelligent type that everyone one went to, like a flame in a field of darkness. She'd been nice since the lunch-stealing incident, saying hi and waving, but that didn't mean she liked me. And then she sent me a note. I remember trying to pass it to one of the people around me, but she'd just snatch it back and set it back on my desk. I'm not sure how our teacher didn't notice, or maybe she had decided I wasn't worth the trouble of punishing anymore: a lot of my Elementary school teachers did. Finally, with shaking hands, I picked up the note and stared at my name on it, _from Carly_, written in the corner. I unfolded the paper with an uneasy feeling bouncing around on the inside. Maybe it was her way of telling me she hated me without having to say it. But, no. It was nothing like that.

_ Want to come to my house after school?_

Its probably the only time she's ever really invited me over, or maybe I've just used that same note as an invitation for all of these years. I run my hands over the old, crinkled paper. I still have it. Eight years later and I still have it. I remember how excited and scared I was, even though I hastily scribbled 'yes' and passed it back to her. Seeing me at school was one thing, even if she did watch me bully people, but alone. Just the two of us. At her house. What if I accidentally broke something and she stopped speaking to me?

Carly has always been that cool, interesting, accepting person that everyone wants to know. After school that day, she took my hand and led me outside to where her brother stood waiting for her. It was a good thing she did, too, because I had considered the possibility it was a joke. I hadn't dared to let myself hope it would actually happen. I mean, why would someone like Carly Shay want to hang out with someone like me?

I don't go quiet when I get nervous. I do the exact opposite. All the way to her brother's loft, I talked constantly. On top of that, I pick-pocketed her brother, Spencer, and I have yet to pay him back for that. I don't think Spencer noticed, but I know Carly did. I could feel her eyes on my face as soon as my hand left his pocket. She knew, she had to. But she didn't say anything. My stomach dropped out. She was going to hate me for taking from her brother. She was never going to speak to me again. She was going to tell me to go home and that would be it, the end. Without a second chance. She didn't.

I'd never felt more at home than the first time I'd strolled into the Shay apartment. There was just something welcoming about it. Spencer was in college, so there were books and notes scattered all over the living room, but there were also obnoxious bits of sculptures that he'd never gotten around to finishing. Carly fixed us a snack and led the way upstairs to her bedroom. I remember never wanting to leave her room. Maybe I could ask to move in with her. That's stupid, why would she want me? My thoughts were so dark that whole day. I couldn't relax, couldn't calm down. I'd never really had a friend before, especially not a female one. What did eight-year-old girls do together? I didn't know. Our snack was jello. So I threw some at her.

It was the end. It had to be. I'd just thrown jello at her, making a mess on her floor and splattering her pretty blue dress. She was about to kick me out and get rid of me. This was it. But she didn't. She smiled, giggled, and threw some back at me. Before I knew it, we were having a full-fledged jello war, Carly running downstairs for a moment to fetch the rest and me chasing after her with the gob I had left. I think that was the moment it clicked in my head just how much I liked this girl. This quiet, intelligent girl who was pitching jello at me like she was some kind of all-star baseball player.

As the evening wore on, I knew the question was coming, but I didn't want to answer it. "When are your parents coming to get you?" Cringe. It was Spencer who asked from the kitchen where he was juicing oranges. I'd blushed from the top of my head to the inside of my belly button as I responded, "I don't have a dad, and I don't think my mom's coming." Carly didn't look at me twice over it and neither did Spencer. Instead, he suggested I spend the night and go wash my hands for dinner. That was the first time I felt like someone really cared about me. Probably the first time I'd been around someone so kind, and I doubt Spencer's ever thought twice about offering. I mean, now he's kind of my older brother too, but then. Then I was still some strange, rude, obnoxious, mean little kid that his baby sister brought home.

I sit on my bed, holding this monumental note, drifting back and forth between the past and the present. "Hey, Carly?"

Carly's dragging stuff out from under my bed. It's the third time this month I've forced her into helping me clean my room. "What?" She responds a little breathlessly.

"You remember the first time you invited me over to your loft?" I ask, resting my elbows on my thighs and leaning forward to see her more clearly.

She sits back on her heels, blowing hair out of her face. "I didn't realize I ever have invited you over. I think one day you just dropped by and I haven't been able to get rid of you since." She smiles affectionately at me and goes back to pulling stuff out. "I swear, I have no idea how you do this. We just cleaned your room ten days ago, and I think you've spent most of the last ten days at my house."

I grin. "You invited me over a few days after I tried to steal your lunch in third grade."

Carly nods from her crouched position. "How nice of me."

"Yeah." I set the note carefully back into the jewelry box I'd been looking through for safekeeping. "You know how happy you made me that day?"

"Did I?"

"Well, duh." I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. "I considered you my best friend from that day on."

She sits up, folding her arms on top of my bed and resting her chin on top of them. "Really?"

I reach over to stroke her hair. "Yeah." I mutter. "Of course, you were my only friend, so there wasn't a hell of a lot of competition for the spot."

She laughs. "Well, I had to get in early before everyone decided they liked you after all."

I snort. "Yeah, like that'll ever happen."

"It already has." She shrugs, and holds up a crumpled picture. "You see this? My ninth birthday."

I glance at the picture of her blowing out the candles on her ninth birthday cake and me trying to set fire to leftover wrapping paper behind her. Why the hell did this girl keep me around? I nab the picture and hold it closer. I can't believe its been eight years since Carly decided I'm good enough to be her best friend.

"You want to know something?" She asks, leaning back on her hands and crossing her feet at the ankle. "That day I invited you over after you tried to steal my sandwich? I've considered you my best friend since that day, too."

I smile toothily at her. "You have not."

"Actually, I have. Everyone always acted so timid when I brought them home with me. I don't know if it was me or because no parents were around, they expecting them to jump out of the crawl space and catch them in the act of misbehaving. But when I brought you home, you threw jello at me." Carly smiled. "And you picked my brother's pockets on the way there, so I guess I already knew you wouldn't have any restraint."

My eyes are unwavering on hers. "I knew you saw me do it."

"I know. You stared at me all the way to the loft like you were daring me to say something, but I never planned to." Carly admits.

"Why not?" I ask curiously.

"Well, mostly because I didn't expect you got much off of Spencer besides perhaps five bucks and maybe an odd piece of candy." Her eyes sweep around my room for a moment. "Besides, everyone deserves a second chance."

"I thought that was my second chance. You know, the first one being the attempt to steal your lunch."

"Well, that was unsuccessful, so it hardly counts." She pushes herself up to standing and dusts her hands off on her pants. "Lets take a break. I want yogurt."

"Fine with me." I nod, climbing off my bed. ""There's still a lot left to do."

She glances around. "It would go faster if you would help instead of lying around while I do all the hard work!"

I grin. "Come on, we both know that isn't going to happen."

"Yeah, well," She shakes her head. "Forget it. I'm sure that's good enough for today anyway. We have rehearsal at five, so we only have a half an hour for yogurt."

"Let's skip rehearsal." I suggest.

Carly sends me a dirty look as we pull on jackets at the door and I lock up. "Don't be ridiculous."

The yogurt place is almost exactly half way between Spencer's loft and my mom's apartment. We discovered it when we were fourteen, right after my mom and I moved into our current apartment. My mom and I had been fighting so much at that time, I don't remember why anymore. I had called Carly about a month after moving in. With a choked voice, I had told her how much I wanted to run. She told me to meet her halfway to her loft. Four blocks. I ran the whole four blocks and found her already sitting there. She held me and stroked my hair, telling me everything was okay. Later I found out she'd already been sitting there trying to clear her head because her grandfather was threatening to make her move to Yakima. That was the night I fell in love with her. We stared at the yogurt place for nearly an hour before deciding to go in. Turned out they had decent yogurt, so we still go there.

Carly stares at me over her banana cream pie yogurt, frowning slightly. I meet her gaze for a few minutes, but eventually have to look away. "What?" I demand of her.

"Just thinking about the note and the picture." She says in what she must consider an offhand voice. "Why do you still have those?"

I shrug. "Too important to throw away, I guess."

She scoffs. "So important that you'll guess you can't throw them away?"

I smile. "You know what I mean."

"Sure I do." She smiles back and takes a bite of yogurt. "Its weird to think eight years have already passed since I befriended you, isn't it?"

I nod. "Sure is."

"We should have a party to celebrate." She suggests.

"Why? It's only been eight years, not ten." I say.

"What's wrong with celebrating every eighth year? We met when we were eight. Its kind of fitting." She shrugs.

I chomp into my blueberry birthday cake yogurt. "Okay, sure. Let's celebrate. But shouldn't it just be us, then? If we're celebrating our anniversary?" She chuckles and I frown at her. "What?"

"Just, 'our anniversary.' Kind of, I don't know. Just sounds funny." She shrugs again.

I sit up, a light bulb blinking on over my head, figuratively, of course. "We should have a jello fight."

"A jello fight? I was thinking of starting a tradition a bit more lasting." Carly says.

"But a jello fight was what brought us together!" I exclaim.

"Yeah, but can you really see at like forty throwing jello at each other?" Carly raises her eyebrows. "Or sixty?"

I lean back in my chair, scratching at my left eyebrow. "You really think we'll make it that long?"

"You don't?"

I shrug, checking the time on my cell phone. "Come on, if we're really going to have rehearsal, we better get going."

For four years, from ages eight to twelve, I went to Carly's loft every single day. I'd walk home with her after school; spend the night every weekend. It was like I'd unofficially moved in. Then Melanie, my identical twin sister, got accepted into some specialty school, that I was deemed not good enough to even step foot on the premises, and left. Once she was gone, I felt better about being home, but only when my mom wasn't there. When she was, I was still prone to run. Carly was always there for me. Every time I called her, sometimes it seemed like she just anticipated my need for her and would appear. Like a magician. She'd just show up at the door or be waiting for me at hers.

"Hey Sam?" She says, holding the door of her building open for me.

"Yeah?"

"I know it makes you uncomfortable, but do you mind if I say something just this once?" She stares at me so earnestly that I ache to hold her.

"What?" I shrug in defeat.

"I love you." Her words flow through my body oxygen. "Like now and in the past and forever."

"Me too, kid. Ditto."

I'll never be able to stop doing bad things all together, it's in my blood, but I considerably cut back after Carly and I became friends, I realized. Or maybe I just didn't follow the normal trajectory for someone with my start in life. I never really advanced passed stealing, pranks, and bullying. Never moved on to assault and battery, or breaking and entering, or whatever is supposed to come next. She has some kind of power over me, I'm realizing. She has to have something since she's the one keeping me from the life of crime I'm probably prone to. That actually makes her kind of amazing, thinking about it. Who would of thought, Carly Shay is the domineering personality in our relationship.

Carly and I stare somewhat dumbstruck at Ms. Benson as she leans in the doorway of her apartment. "Freddie what?" I exclaim in shock.

"Freddie has tics." Ms. Benson repeats. "I told him he shouldn't go camping with your brother, Carly, but he was determined and now look what's happened? All these precautionary measures, all for nothing." She fluffs her hair, smiling despite her words. "Well, I better get back to him. Freddie needs his mommy right now."

I follow Carly into her loft with a big smile on my face. "That is just icing on the cake of a pretty good day."

Carly rolls her eyes at me. "We really needed to rehearse today."

I shrug. "So what did you want me to do about it? We can rehearse without the nub if you really want to. I'm sure we can figure out how to set everything up ourselves."

She gives me an unsure look, and then grabs a couple Peppy Colas from the refrigerator and leads the way upstairs. "Poor Freddie. I guess we'll have to."

We were twelve the first time Carly told me she loved me with actual words. It had been a hard night. Carly's father was supposed to have a couple of weeks off to come see them, he's stationed in Europe, but decided to put it off until Christmastime and didn't show. I'd had the opposite problem. Melanie was coming home for her spring break that night, and let's just say my sister and I don't get along very well. We met up at the park, having made some kind of unspoken agreement to meet there. She hugged me, which she'd been doing for years so it wasn't so surprising, than sat me down on a park bench facing the highway. We held hands, but didn't speak. Talking seemed like it would take too much energy. We just sat there for over an hour until it was too much for me, so I tackled her. We wrestled for a while, laughing and having fun. Then, worn down, we stopped and just sat there in companionable silence. My mom buzzed my phone at half past eleven, so we got up to head home. In front of the yogurt place, she grabbed my wrist before we parted ways. She pulled me back into a hug and whispered the sentiment in my ear. _I love you_.

"I'm exhausted." I drop down onto the beanbag next to Carly's with a heavy sigh. "Let's not hold rehearsals without the dork again. I like it better when he does all the heavy lifting and the standing on ladders stuff."

Carly pats my arm with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. "Okay." She agrees. "You're more entertaining on ladders than he is, though."

"I'm more entertaining than he is period." I say.

"Its true." She sits up suddenly, all serious and determined. "Sam?"

I turn my head to face her, somewhat startled by the sudden urgency. "Yeah?"

"Do you smell something burning?"

I sit up too, staring at her as I sniff the air. Something is indeed burning. We race down the stairs and hit the smoke billowing out of the kitchen area. I race in with my head down, feeling for the lanky body I know is in the middle things. Carly runs to the back of the loft to bash the windows open. My arms close around Spencer's middle and I drag him back and over to a window. He coughs and gasps into the cool night air. When he finally recovers, and the smoke vents out a bit, he stands up straighter and Carly and I relax.

"Dinner's ready." He says with a weak smile.

Carly whacks him on the arm while I head into the kitchen to discover chicken burnt to a crisp. I pull a fork from a drawer and break a piece off.

"No, Sam," Carly's words fall on deaf ears as I place it in my mouth and crunch.

"Hmm," I hum, "still tastes like chicken."

She slaps a hand to her head and comes into the kitchen to throw the chicken away before I can eat anymore. "Bad, Sam!" She scolds.

"I was eating that." I pout.

"Yeah, and now I'm disposing of it."

Freddie comes running in through the door. "What happened? I smelled smoke!"

Carly and I turn to look at him with our mouths open. "I thought you had tics?" Carly asks.

He shakes his head vehemently. "No! My mom found one tic! One! On my backpack!"

Spencer heads back into the kitchen, trying to smile at the mess he made and his failed chicken. He sighs and exhales loudly. "I guess we should order Chinese or something, yeah?"

It took me a long time to understand Spencer and realize he wasn't Carly's father. I mean, yeah. He is a bit young, but when you're eight, everyone who's an adult seems old. For the first couple years of our friendship, he was fairly boring. Sometimes, he was crazy: building wild, giant sculptures, and transforming ordinary things like ping pong paddles into works of art. Most of the time, though, he was normal and a tad boring. He was still in college, the last couple years of it, and he was always doing homework or studying. Then he got into Law School, and I remember that night because I'd never seen him look so depressed. He just stared at the letter for hours and hours and then went to bed. Three days later, Carly came to school with big news that Spencer had called it quits and decided to be an artist. That's when things clicked for me with his personality. He was just holding too much of himself in to be happy. I met the real Spencer when I went to Carly's house that night.

I play with Carly's hair probably more than is necessary, but I know she can't ignore me when I do. She loves when people play with her hair.

"Stop it, Sam." She commands, and I drop my hands.

"You know, Carly, I think everyone has it wrong. Everyone says I'm a force to be reckoned with, but I think you're the one that is. How could you control me so easily if it wasn't you?" I smile, and she turns her head to look at me with a grin on her face.

"That's… an interesting hypothesis. Did you brush your teeth?" She asks, changing the subject.

"Yes, Carly." I answer obediently, saluting her.

She holds my hands down to break me out of my salute. "I'm serious. I don't want to have to take you to the dentist again any time soon."

"I did, I promise." I tell her honestly.

She frowns, staring into my eyes. "Well, okay." She says after a moment.

She yanks me down from sitting on the counter in her bathroom and leads the way back into her bedroom to her bed. With a jerk of her hand, she directs me into bed and goes to shut off the light before joining me.

I lie on my side, facing the wall. Covering most of it is a collage dating back years and years. Off to the left near the window is a picture from when we were fourteen and we went to our first Cuddlefish concert. I hadn't really wanted to go, but Carly swore they were the greatest band ever and I should see them. She was right, of course. They were amazing, just as I knew they would be because she was the one recommending them. Spencer had taken a picture of us right before we left. Me in my jeans, a t-shirt and a vest. Carly all dolled up in a dress and high-heeled sandals she was going to regret two hours later. I ended up buying her different shoes to wear because it killed me to see her in pain. It had been such a good night, I'd considered telling her how I felt. That I, you know, was in love with her or whatever. But I didn't have the courage. It kept getting later, and the concert didn't end until well after midnight. By the time we got back, it was nearly two in the morning and we were both tired out of our minds. I was still thinking about it though. When she cuddled into me in her bed, the timing felt right. I actually said it out loud. She didn't hear me, though. She was already asleep.

"Sam? You still awake?" Carly whispers from her side of the bed.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm up."

"What're you thinking about?" She asks.

"Why? You wondering if I'm having dirty thoughts?" I poke her on the side of her abdomen. "Carly."

"No!" She defends. "Just curious. I can't sleep."

"I'm just thinking about the first Cuddlefish concert we went to." I tell her honestly.

"What's with you and the reflecting today?" She asks with a giggle in her voice.

I shrug. "I'm looking at the picture Spencer took before we went to it."

"Oh." She rolls over until her body is pressed against my back and her face is resting against the side of my face. "That was a good day."

I nod, swallowing sharply. "Yeah, it was."

"I told you they were good."

"You were right."

She's quiet for a moment and then turns onto her back, ending the blissful contact. She sighs deeply. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I want this to last forever." She says, and I turn my head to find her staring at me.

"What? Cuddlefish?"

"No," She replies. "I want us to be like this forever."

My heart is in my throat. Maybe now is the right moment. Maybe after two long years of being in this state, I can finally tell her. "We were fourteen when we went to the concert."

"Yeah." She mutters. "Seems so long ago, doesn't it?"

"You remember that night we found the yogurt place? We were fourteen then, too." I mumble.

"How could I forget? Its our place." Her voice echoes in my ears as my blood pounds around my head like some kind of fish tank.

"That night," I swallow and inhale to try and slow my heart. "That's the night I fell in love with you."

There's a long, empty pause. Too long. I'm eight all over again, waiting for her to kick me out or decides she hates me. Oh, god. Oh, god.

"That's the night you what?" Carly says in a small voice, lifting up to stare down at me. I'm glad its dark because I'm blushing everywhere and I doubt it looks very attractive. And that's just the icing on the layer of perspiration coving my body and the erratic heartbeat.

"Don't make me say it again." I dig my teeth into my lip as I stare uneasily up at her.

"Since we were fourteen?" She says on a gasp.

I nod uneasily. "Yeah." Maybe I should go donate blood because it feels like I've got a little too much of it in my body.

"That's two years ago!" She exclaims and then realizes it's late and Spencer is probably sleeping, so she drops back to a whisper. "That's two years ago and you're just now telling me?"

I nod again. "Yeah." That seems to be the only thing I know I'm capable of saying, so I'm going to stick with it.

"Sam…" She mumbles with emotion oozing into her voice.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Its okay, its okay. I didn't think you'd feel the same way, I'm not expecting anything of you. I just wanted to tell you, so you could know, you know?" I ramble and wish I'd just shut up.

She hugs me, lowering down and wrapping her arms around me as best as she can in my position, and buries her head in my neck. "Sam…" She whispers against my skin.

"Nothing has to change." I hear myself assure her. "Really. I'm happy just being with you." Oh my god just shut up. Shut up!

"Sam, I told you how I feel four years ago, and again this afternoon." Carly whispers, sitting up to look at me.

"You love me, I know." I say, my voice wavering when I say love because I am such a loser. "You don't have to say anything."

"Sam, calm down." She commands. "Really. I'm not frightened or anything. You're the one losing your mind over it because you think I will, but I'm not."

I stare up at her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you need to relax. Your heartbeat is off the charts." She says.

I take several deep breaths. "Okay, I'm calm. I'm calm. We can go to sleep now."

Carly grabs my wrists and pins them against the pillow. "I didn't mean that, I just wanted you to stop freaking out when I haven't even given you a response."

"Oh." My whole body is on fire. It was hard enough to tell her, now I have to hear a response? That sucks.

"I love you as a friend." Of course she does. I already knew that. "But I'm also attracted to you. So I guess that means I want to be more than friends? You know, if you're okay with me saying something. If you're okay with things changing."

I sit up really quickly, a jolt running through my belly and back up into my throat. "What?"

"Don't make me say it again." She mumbles with a smile, making me realize just how close we are since she was still leaning over me when I bolted up.

I lick my lips. "Can I kiss you?"

"Oh," her face falls. "You want to make our relationship physical?" I stare at her with wide-eyes and fear etched into my face for a moment before she grins. "I'm kidding. Of course you can."

I don't have to lean far to connect my lips to her in a soft kiss. My eyes flutter close on their own accord, my body relaxing as I taste her for the first time. Her mouth is slightly sweet, but striking all at the same time. Her hand cups my cheek as she holds me close. It feels like fire is darting back and forth between her fingertips and my skin, but calming all at the same time. It's familiar and natural, but new and exciting. Most importantly, it's so very real.

She pulls back clearing her throat. "Well, yeah, okay. I guess we know that works." She mutters.

"Definitely." I grin and edge forward to kiss her again, but she dodges me.

"Sam, no." She says. At the crestfallen look on my face she adds, "we need to sleep, and if you do that again, I'm not going to be able to sleep."

"Sleep is overrated." I tell her urgently.

She smiles. "Sam."

"Fine." I give in. "Just one more, then. A good night kiss." I bob my head insistently.

"Well, okay." She forfeits.

My fingers curl into her hair and I drag her closer, pressing her mouth to mine in a wide enough angle to part her lips and lick her bottom lip. I've waited so long for this. Her hands are braced on my legs and she grips tighter when her tongue touches mine. Then I pull my tongue back and close my mouth to shove my lips against hers and lie back down.

She stares down at me with a dumbstruck expression. "Sam?"

"Goodnight." I smile and pull the blankets up to my chin.

She sits back onto her heels. "You're really going to do that and then stop?"

"We need to sleep." I tell her.

"Sleep is overrated." She blurts. She rolls her eyes and lowers herself down to cuddle me. I kiss the top of her head; suddenly feeling very tired, and let my eyes close. "You are so cruel. We are so making out first thing in the morning."

"Yes master."

Years from now, I guess I'll be reflecting back on the time when we were sixteen and I finally told her I'm in love with her. I'll reflect back on tonight, on our first kiss, on our first everything. Eight years from now, I will do this again. If only there was someway to remind the future me. Oh yeah, I'll write myself a note.


End file.
